


Where Statements Lead

by Clockwork



Series: Statements [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Bad coping mechanisms, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, kind of dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 15:55:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13767483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clockwork/pseuds/Clockwork
Summary: After Martin gives his statement about his experience with Mike Crew, Jon realizes that Martin can not leave well enough alone and gives in to ensure Martin uses the healthiest coping mechanism possible. Okay, not healthiest but safest? At least safer than the alternatives. Follow up to Statement Of Martin Blackwood posted earlier in the TMA pairing week.





	Where Statements Lead

Jon wanted to pretend that he had no idea how he ended up in this position. Literally and figuratively. He wanted to convince himself that he had no idea how they ended up here, how they found themselves making these nights a regular thing, enough so that Martin now had a drawer in Jon’s dresser so that those nights when exhaustion overtook them, they could be both look fresh and what passed for innocent in their circles. 

The truth of the matter was though, he knew exactly how things had gone this far. Because, as with with everything else, he had fed the Beholding with a story… and if there was anyone that Jon owed for all they had been through, it was Martin.

So much as he told himself it was nothing more than taking care of Martin, just as much as he would try and ensure that all they were now caught up in would never get him killed. Jon couldn’t promise that though, nor could he promise he wouldn’t be the one to do it. Not intentionally, but the deeper they got, the greater the chances were that one day Jon would have Martin’s death on his hands. Literally and figuratively.

The first night, as Jon held Martin’s trembling and nearly unconscious form in his arms, he had whispered to him softly. He wasn’t sure it would work, if he could command anyone to do anything but tell him a story, but if there was a chance it would work, Jon had to try.

Don’t let me kill you, Martin. Don’t let me go too far.

And even as he whispered them, he knew that Martin was the last person who would do it. Jon knew that from his statement, and he knew it from knowing Martin all this time. If the time came, Martin would embrace death just as he had done so in nearly every time but when it involved worms and what remained of Jane Prentiss.

That alone should have stopped Jon, but when Martin would come to him, desperation in his expression and dark circles under his eyes and Jon knew he would give Martin whatever it was he needed. And what he needed was the same every time. Even if slowly but surely Jon found himself trying to change that. 

It was why the first time he had held Martin all night, leaving him to sleep in his bed as Jon got back to what he, as Archivist, must do for them all, but Martin could take the day to rest. The next time, hesitant and uncertain, Jon had kissed Martin as he held him in his arms, making sure that he was again ready for what Jon was going to do. It had been welcomed and even chased after as Jon pulled away. That bit of need that had nothing to do with the rest gave Jon hope that one day he might wean Martin off his other needs.

That had been a delusion that Jon still heard echoing in the back of his head. Even as now they met on what had to be their third month doing this, and so much had changed.

Martin lay naked across Jon’s lap. His body was flushed, bruises and scars showing that left Jon’s mouth dry. Or perhaps it was from having sucked Martin off before they started, wanting him to think of another kind of blacking out pleasure that came from being pushed over the edge by eagerness and no small amount of skills of mouth and tongue. 

Every sound Martin made went straight through Jon and it was in that moment when he realized just how wrong he had been with all of this. He hadn’t stopped Martin from wanting it, all he had done was given him another reason to crave it, and something else to crave that was neither good for him, nor particularly healthy.

And in the process made himself find pleasure in it as well. No, not in all of it. In what came with it but not that act in that moment. 

Not as his hands held tight to the ends of the silk scarf he had insisted they use, if only that the first time had left chafing and had led to both Melanie and Tim coming to Jon concerned about Martin’s safety. He had promised he would see to it, and he had. 

After that first time, when Martin had shown up on his doorstep with a woolen scarf in hand and a hopeful look in his eyes, Jon had ensured that Martin’s safety was first and foremost. Even if Martin didn’t care about it. If only so that the others didn’t realize what was going on.

Watching Martin’s face intently, having learned over the last few months just how his expression read. When it was too much, not enough, when more pressure was needed, and when Martin had hit that point where he is passing out, and releasing that hold just as he crosses over and finds that release once more.

Knowing that he was giving more than he was potentially taking was still so hard. Nothing was easy in feeling the silk biting into his hands as he pulled a bit tighter, watching as the strip of midnight black silk drew tighter against the pale column of Martin’s throat before his gaze flickered back up to Martin’s face. 

The look was there. Maybe not entirely the same as when Mike Crew would bring Martin to this edge of accepting his own death, of giving in to dying, but enough to keep Martin from seeking out another that could give him what Crew had. If Jon could keep him from going to another to find this, then it was enough. Jon would give him whatever he could so that never happened. 

Watching as Martin’s eyelids started to flutter, seeing more whites than the soft color of Martin’s eyes, and Jon knew it was time. He jerked harder, just for a count of three, slow, under his breath and then he let go of both ends, jerking at the spot where they crossed at his Adam’s apple and jerking the fabric away. Martin gasped a breath, eyes flickering open. He stared up at Jon, his face pale compared to the flush of his skin and the flesh around his mouth was sickly and blue tinged. 

His eyes though. His eyes were filled with lust, the pupils wide as they always were in those moments and Jon wondered if Martin found himself in that same blinding white light during it as he had with Crew. He never asked though, not even now as his hand cupped Martin’s face, lightly stroking his thumb along Martin’s cheekbone as he gasped in lungfuls of air. 

“Jon?”

Licking his lips, the Archivist met his assistant’s gaze, wondering if Martin truly saw him despite using his name.

“Yes, Martin?”

“Fuck me?”

Things were definitely going further than Jon had imagined, and he was certain it wasn’t good for Martin. Not in the least.

“Please?”

And he wasn’t going to deny him. Not now. Maybe not ever.


End file.
